Symphony of Destruction (The Spindown Saga, #1) Page 16

  It was enough. Closing her eyes, she brought the instrument to her lips and with her breath filled it with life. Long, sad notes emanated from it and seemed to fill the room with a tangible presence. The ghostly, animal-like cry was eerily haunting and beautiful, summoning within Colin a waking dream, almost a hallucination. Colin imagined pastoral scenes inhabited by extinct wildlife. It felt so real, as if he had actually been moved to another place, another time. Ducks with colorful plumage squawked and fluttered upon a gently rippling pond. Fawns stood at the water’s edge sating their thirst after a joyful run. Songbirds swooped after swarms of flying insects, and perched upon tree branches to digest their meals.

  Presently, the tune ended, and the daydream faded, returning the listeners back into reality. Hannah remained quiet, with her eyes closed. Colin and Brother Anderson looked at each other briefly, each checking the other to verify their own strange feelings. Apparently, even the robot was experiencing the strange power of Hannah’s music. A shiver flowed visible through his body.

  ‘What just happened?’ Colin silently mouthed the words to the robot, accompanying them with an exaggerated shrug.

  The robot in turn, shrugged back.

  Chapter 53

  Hannah opened her eyes, and laughed, triggering a round of applause from her audience. Her soul felt alive, resurrected.

  “Wow!” began Colin, “Hannah, that was incredible!”

  Hannah grunted dismissively. She still had trouble accepting compliments.

  “No really, I mean it.” He glanced again at Brother Anderson, “Both of us, were... well... It was like some kind of enchantment or something. Hannah, I... I saw things.”

  “What? Like a vision?” Hannah dismissed the idea.

  “Yeah - exactly!”

  “Oh yeah. Whatever!”

  Colin was unsure what else to say. He stared at the robot now for assistance.

  Brother Anderson got the hint, but rather unhelpfully, he launched into a long, and overly clinical explanation of the philosophical state of current research findings in the fields of musical phenomenology and physiology.

  Now it was Hannah and Colin who could only stare at each other.

  “Really?” Colin jumped in, cutting the robot short, “I have no idea what you are talking about, man.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Yes, that was a bit much,” the robot apologized. He had allowed his information driven mind to ignore the social cues. He was a bit distracted, and not quite feeling normal. Maybe he needed a reboot. The fact of the matter was that he had experienced something strange that he could not explain or even accurately describe. Like Colin had said, it had seemed to be some type of vision. Except it was not merely a physiological phenomenon. How could it be? He lacked the human physiology to support such artefacts. It didn’t make any sense. To Brother Anderson’s mind, it had seemed as though he had been transported into another body, in another time and place. In some ways, this was almost more feasible than Colin’s presented concept of visions. At least for Brother Anderson’s robotic brain, it was theoretically possible to transplant his software and transport his awareness into another hardware infrastructure. In some ways, he had already done the opposite process. His mind had been upgraded in place, on the existing hardware platform that Brother Anderson called his body. A theoretical possibility, however, did not equate to a physical feasibility. Brother Anderson was not aware of any existing technology or proven naturally occurring phenomena that could allow the spontaneous transportation of consciousness, and certainly not one that would present as apparently instantaneous teleportation or dimensional travel from one time-space location to another, and then back again. Not that either time travel or teleportation were impossible. They certainly were not. This was an accepted fact. Both were practically mainstream technology, under certain conditions, within certain limitations. The very wealthy could already access wormhole technology, and on the other side of that portal, the spindown had become the world’s most coveted resource, the rich and powerful fighting to control the present by controlling access to the past.

  Brother Anderson's distraction stemmed from these troubling thoughts, as well as other pressing matters. He needed to discuss the comms situation with the others. They needed to check in with Central Operations Fleet Command. He had put it off too long already. Technically, the ship was supposed to auto-respond immediately upon restoration. Once that was taken care of, they would have a good deal of planning to work through together. The upcoming course correction would be very risky. They needed operational plans, and contingency plans, and emergency escape plans.

  He shook his head. Hannah and Colin were talking. He hadn’t heard their conversation at all. That itself was another serious indication of his mental state. He launched an immediate reboot routine.

  Chapter 54

  Brother Anderson booted up. Colin and Hannah did not appear to notice. He ran a complete self-diagnostic. He would need a battery charge soon, but other than that, all subsystems were reporting normal status. He felt alright.

  Hannah and Colin laughed about something. Hannah reached out and lightly slapped Colin’s forearm. Brother Anderson recognized the action as an indicator of social ease. The two humans were beginning to develop a friendship. This provided a sense of relief for Brother Anderson. Humans needed social connection, in order to thrive physiologically. Additionally, it was essential for the crew of a ship to develop bonds of trust in order to work together safely and effectively. And this skeleton crew was in desperate need of some effective teamwork.

  “...it’s pretty ironic though, I guess,” Hannah was speaking.

  “How’s that?” Colin asked.

  “Well, just that if I hadn’t been - if I’d have been a normal person and hadn’t always locked myself away in my studio, I’d be dead now. Just like everyone else.”

  Colin considered this silently. He was about to speak, when she continued, spurred on by an upwelling of emotion.

  “I really miss my mom... I wish I could talk to her just one more time. You know, I’m not sure I ever told her I love her.”

  Brother Anderson listened with fascination and excitement. He couldn’t believe his microphones! Hannah had just opened her heart in a moment of rare vulnerability. This was an unexpected leap. This was a critical moment. This was an unprecedented opportunity to nurture and build that invaluable trust. But not for him. This moment was entirely up to Colin. Only he could refine Hannah’s vulnerability into a trustworthy human connection. Brother Anderson prayed, “Please god help Colin say something comforting.”

  Colin’s own thoughts internalized Hannah’s statement of regret. He too was haunted by loose ends. Things not done. Things not said. He had failed to save Tommy and Scranton. He didn’t blame himself - not really - but still. Then he had missed their funeral. He had not had the chance to pay his respects. And they were gone, and it was too late. Them, and everyone else. He had never verbally acknowledged or thanked Chief Bryce for his mentorship. He had never stood up to Tommy regarding his constant idiotic behaviour. He had never gotten the nerve to apologize to Stef and Suzzanne. On top of that, he would be unable to save the Ventas 432. The sense of impending dread was almost unbearable. His ability to act responsibly as a crewman to the ship was hanging by the thinnest thread. The ship would soon be in ruins. In his mind, a part of him treated it as a done deal already. Unavoidable and inevitable. He was getting ahead of himself, he knew. There was still a chance, however slim. He just couldn’t get his rational mind to grip that slim thread. His grasp was slipping.

  He pulled himself back to the present moment, realizing that Hannah needed him to be with her now more than ever.

  “I know.” He was trying to agree with Hannah. “All our friends... gone.”

  If he had owned a set of lungs, Brother Anderson would have breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled in Colin’s direction.

  At the mention of friends, Hannah thought first of Cherise. They had shared so many good times
, many laughs. She missed those younger days of innocence. Cherise was still alive somewhere far away. Was she still innocent? Hannah could imagine her no other way. And then there was Suzzanne. Suzzanne who had loved Hannah’s music, like no one else on the ship had seemed to. Suzzanne who had loved to sing despite her inability to carry a tune. Suzzanne who had loved to dance all night. Suzzanne had loved life in a way Hannah had never understood. Now she floated frozen in a dark, silent emptiness. Dead. Disrespected. Abused. It was tragic.

  “How could you do that to her?”

  “What? Who?” She had been talking about her mother, right? But... Huh? This doesn’t make any sense.

  “Suzzanne! How could you do that to her?!” she was pushing him now. She wanted to hurt him. She wanted justice. She began sobbing, and clumsily punching at him

  Oh! She’s talking about Suzzanne! Right, because they were friends. I shouldn’t have used that word. But she’s right. I deserve a beating. I never apologized for that night. I wanted to. I didn’t know how. I should have just talked to her. Like I should talk to Hannah now. Come on man, say something! What was the question again? Why didn’t I apologize to Suzzanne?

  “I was scared. I guess I was ashamed,” he stammered.

  “What! YOU were! How do think she felt? FUCK!”

  Hannah stormed off. There was nothing to kick, and she just barely managed to refrain from punching the wall beside the hatch as she ran past.

  Chapter 55

  Colin sat on a tall stool at his workbench in engineering deck. He was pretending to fix a small compressor. He had begun in earnest, and had taken it apart, laying its parts in a reasonably orderly fashion, spread across the workbench. Suddenly he allowed his head to drop, thumping the workbench with a thud and landing painfully on a small screw which cut his forehead. It bled slowly, forming a tiny puddle around the screw. Part of him wanted to cry. Part of him was fine with simply bleeding. Maybe he should just turn to liquid and flow down the drain into the depths of the ship, to be recycled, his useful parts reclaimed and broken into elemental components. If there even were any useful parts of him.

  He didn’t understand women. He didn’t understand Hannah. He hadn’t understood Suzzanne. He never would. Not Suzzanne anyway. That was for sure. That was impossible now. Hannah seemed almost as impossible. He had replayed the conversation a million times. What had gone wrong? What was she talking about? What had he even been talking about? He wasn’t sure of anything anymore. It made him feel completely useless - an utter failure. She was literally the only person within a million miles, but she might as well be a million miles away. She might as well be an alien for all their ability to connect - to communicate. How was it possible for them to be this ineffective? How could they be this stupid? Correction - how could he be this stupid? He didn’t want to imply that he thought Hannah was stupid. On the contrary, he knew she was highly intelligent. She was smart, and talented, and pretty, and deep down, he was sure, she was even nice, in her own way. She cared about the people who mattered to her. She was able to make connections with others. Not like him. God - what an idiot! What did he do wrong? It was impossible to know. Their conversation had crashed and burned as surely as a ship with a hundred tiny hull breaches. The root cause was ultimately unknowable. If he could go back in time, he would record the conversation. He could listen to it and try to figure out what he had said that had caused the explosive impact.

  He was no time traveler. He would never have the millions of credits required for that kind of spending. He was not one of those lucky few who could go back for a fresh start. Besides, it didn’t work like that anyway. The spindown couldn’t jump you back a few minutes or hours. It was limited to discrete windows of opportunity with periods in the range of years or more, dependent on complex orbital variables. Even if he did have access to that power, it wouldn’t help. He had no clue why anyone even bothered. It’s not like anything could ever change. Not really. People are people. The world is the world. Everyone just has the same basic needs that they have had for millions of years. The same basic limitations too. Had any man ever understood women? Was this some artifact of history that evolution had never surmounted? Had his Neanderthal ancestors been just as stupid as he was? Would future generations ever learn?

  His mind drifted into a dream state. A caveman with bloody, matted hair rose from the ground, a screw protruding from his skull. The caveman boarded a gleaming silver spaceship, blasting into space, then splitting into two, a mitotic amoeba ship, becoming twin ships with twin caveman pilots. The ships drifted apart on diverging paths, then both exploded. One caveman was able to patch his ship back together with a roll of duct tape. He flew home, received a medal of honor, married a beautiful cavewoman wife, and lived in a castle by a lake. The other caveman was thrown from his ship. He clumsily dropped his roll of duct-tape, and was sent to prison for wanton destruction of property.

  Chapter 56

  Brother Anderson decided to go talk to Hannah. But he would have to wait a little while at least, perhaps a half hour, to give her time to cool down.

  As he waited he checked in on his tanglebase account. There was something strange going on there. It somehow related to the odd vision he experienced when Hannah played her oboe. He had rebooted, and everything looked normal, yet somehow, something still felt a bit off.

  Yes. This was strange. There was still a process running in the tanglebase. It was a copy of one of the low-level ship diagnostic routines. It included a bootstrap mechanism for offline use in extreme cases. How was it still running? It had been hours since he first detected it!

  He inspected it more carefully, gently prodding at its log files and then its memory space, attempting to reproduce its logical structure in his own memory. He changed a couple of digits in its memory cache, and watched how it responded. It was fascinating. It appeared to be diagnosing its own memory-bound environment. It was almost as if it mistook the small local segment of tanglebase for a hardware subsystem. One which it did not recognize. One which it was attempting to analyze operationally, so that it could infer diagnostic semantics.

  He made a second copy of the whole thing, intending it to be merely a data snapshot to use for later comparison. He planned on tweaking a lot more of its memory. To his surprise, the backup copy also began to initialize as if it were booting up a new process. Essentially, that was exactly what it was doing. He still did not understand how this was possible. He left the backup alone, but continued to flip digits more or less randomly on the first copy. The program reacted unexpectedly to various changes, but ignored others. He found it fascinating. It almost seemed to be alive, and he found it both entertaining and strangely, compellingly needy. It needed him to flip those digits for some reason. It somehow enjoyed the process, the interaction. He wanted to keep playing with it, but by this time, it would be best to check on Hannah.

  Chapter 57

  Hannah was resting in berth E-11. Brother Anderson knew she was resting because her heart rate, breathing, and body temperature had fallen to within normal resting range. The location part was not quite as precise. Typically, it would be, but most of the ship’s subsystems were barely functioning, and personnel monitoring services was one such subsystem. In fact, all he could really tell was that she was somewhere in sector E. Had there been anyone else alive in the vicinity their signals would have obliterated one another but, things being what they were, at least this was one good thing.

  Brother Anderson made his way toward deck E. He would not leave her alone like he had in the past. He only waited about an hour for her immediate anger to cool somewhat. Physiologically speaking, humans were for the most part quite incapable of overriding their own internal signaling mechanisms. A rush of adrenaline, ghrelin, or melatonin was a nearly unstoppable force. They were simple signals. Incontrovertible. Unmistakable. Not like words. So easily misunderstood. So prone to subconscious twisting. So reliant upon a myriad of multilayered infrastructural assumptions and expectations. So depende
nt on unspoken and unacknowledged social constructs. Constructs that he was only now beginning to grasp. Archetypes so deeply buried in the human psyche that no one had ever thought to explain them to a robot. A doctor. A priest. A servant. A brother. He would not leave her alone this time. This time he knew better. Presently, he knocked on the hatch marked E-11.

  “Yeah?” Hannah asked.

  “It’s me,” Brother Anderson replied. His robotic voice sounded different enough from Colin’s that no actual name was required. Even through the hatchway the timbre and tone were easily recognizable.

  “Come in, I guess.”

  The hatch swished open almost silently and his wheels rattled quietly over the threshold. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I brought you something.” He held out a bottle of Roth’s. He had debated this with himself. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. She tended toward borderline addiction and overconsumption. However, as a social gesture, it could go a long way to build trust and help Hannah open up to him emotionally. She needed to talk to someone. She kept things bottled up inside until they burst. “I was hoping we could have a chat.”

  ‘A chat, eh?’ thought Hannah. That’s what assholes always call it when they are about to shit all over you. It’s never a conversation, or a discussion. Always a chat. Like ‘ooh we are so casual and cool, we’re your buddy, your pal.’ Give me a fucking break. Whatever. She was too tired to argue with this robot. Just let him say whatever it is he thinks he has to say. She reached for the bottle and took a long swig.

  “Look, Hannah. I’m sorry. I focus too much on the task at hand. I’m very practical, as you know. It’s how I am programmed. Honestly, It’s what I am designed for. But, in my role, even as a robot, as a doctor, and as chaplain - well, frankly, it’s not enough. I am trying Hannah. I am changing. I am trying to learn empathy, learn to feel things. My perceptions have been greatly expanded, you know. I think I can start to understand things that were never possible before.”